It

When it emerges, there is nobody around.

Who knows what it is? Nobody knows.

Nothing can be said about it.

As if newness is only what is. As if the old has passed on.

Life begets life. Death is perennially present.

It is trauma, it is gift. It is blessing, it is curse. It keeps one alive. Deeply alive. Too alive. It makes one die.

A free fall, with no ground to fall on.

Words fail.

Mystery remains.

 

 

~ by tdcatss on October 4, 2017.

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